The Right Moment
by Behindthebook08
Summary: She's waited ten years to reveal her love, but tonight just may be the right moment, finally. (Hermione/Minerva, entirely fluffy one-shot)


**A/N: Just a fluffy little one-shot. See I _can_ write something entirely angst'less! I hope you all enjoy it.**

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><p>"Dance with me," she whispers, her hand extended. The older witch is so surprised by the offer that she finds herself following the younger woman across the dance floor without question. Ignoring the curious eyes which follow them.<p>

It's been ten years now, but until this moment; Hermione has never said a word.

There have, of course, been moments where her secret almost slipped. 8 years ago, when she drank a touch too much at Harry's wedding, and her former professor helped her home. That night she had nearly begged the woman to stay. She was lonely and intoxicated, and after two years of keeping her feelings inside, she didn't want to hold them in anymore.

But as soon as Hermione whispered her name the older witch had quieted her and apparated away, leaving Hermione alone.

Then three years ago when Hermione had been harshly abandoned after a one night stand, and plead with her friend to explain why it was that _no one_ seemed capable of caring for her. She had nearly slipped that morning, had nearly asked why _she _couldn't care for her.

And then, of course, the moment when she herself had first realized that she was falling in love with her professor. That moment, 10 years ago, had left her entirely flabbergasted.

It isn't every day that a bright nineteen year old falls in love with her professor, especially when that nineteen year old is the ever-logical Hermione Granger. Yet she had so desperately wanted to tell her, if for no other reason than because she knew the older witch would understand, and could help her to comprehend the confusing thoughts which were tumbling around her head.

But she had stayed silent every time because that friendship was too important. Hermione wasn't willing to risk it, not for such a fleeting chance. Not yet.

So she has spent ten years alone. There had been the occasional date, and the one bad ending one night stand. But beyond that Hermione had practically taken a vow of celibacy. She just couldn't even begin to seriously consider someone else, when every day she was surrounded with the one person who could completely fulfill her every dream.

She taught, she studied, and she had weekly tea with the object of her affections.

Until tonight.

The Ministry had insisted on the ball, honoring the heroes of the war, despite the protestations of nearly every one of those heroes. It had been eleven years, and every year another ball was hosted. They were tired of being appreciated, and tired of remembering, they just wanted to move on. But the Ministry insisted.

So they had planned the extravagant ball, and spent money which the ministry certainly couldn't afford, and the party was a smash. Even Hermione could appreciate the magnitude of the affair, and she was practically a hermit at this point.

As one of the _golden trio_ she was required to attend, and she had dressed accordingly. Even she could admit that the scarlet robes which she had chosen were beautiful. They weren't indecent, certainly. And nothing like what Fleur or Ginny would have chosen. But they were classy, and so very Gryffindor.

As she gently sipped her drink at the bar she had seen the Headmistress arrive, and had barely contained herself. Minerva was nearly eighty years old at this point, and yet she looked no older than 40. Hermione knew from their own conversations, that this was apparently normal in the wizarding world, but it still amazed her to witness the entrance of the magnificent witch.

The older woman was drawing the attention of many of the men in attendance, despite the fact that she was _the _Minerva McGonagall. Her golden robes fit her perfectly, and she had surprised all in attendance by wearing her hair in a long braid down her back, instead of the stern bun which was so customary for her. In a word, she looked stunning.

Hermione had flittered around the edges of the ball, watching carefully as Minerva danced with her colleagues, laughed at their jokes, and scolded their less appropriate remarks. She watched as her friends arrived, but she didn't dare join them, lest they notice where her eyes were continuously trained.

It was nearing the end of the night when Minerva suddenly turned and saw Hermione standing across the room. Her eyes lit slightly and the ghost of a smile graced her lips as she nodded in recognition. That was when Hermione suddenly dropped her well-practiced facade.

She glided straight through the middle of the dance floor, past her friends, and into the small gathering of colleagues. She paid no mind to any of them, until she was standing directly in front of Minerva. Her eyes shine delightedly, but she smirks ever so slightly, as if she's just waiting to hear what has caused the younger witch to take so incredibly long.

Hermione wants to confess her love. She wants to recite sonnets, and make a grand gesture—but instead she holds out her left hand. "Dance with me," she whispers.

That _does_ manage to surprise Minerva, and she follows Hermione without question and doesn't argue when the younger woman wraps an arm around her waist. "Hermione, what on earth has come over you?" she smiles, and Hermione grins widely.

"I couldn't wait any long Minerva—I've spent the last ten years appreciating you from afar, and tonight, well tonight I just couldn't continue standing across the room. You're one of my dearest friends, and I know that isn't going to change any time soon. Which is why I _need _to tell you that I have been in love with you for the past 10 years, and I imagine that I will continue to be in love with you for quite some time," she pauses, and shrugs slightly, "I just thought you should know."

Minerva is speechless as Hermione spins her gently, and as they reconnect she shakes her head lightly and smiles. "You are an odd woman, Hermione Granger."

Hermione tilts her head questioningly.

"Since the moment I met you, even at eleven years old, you were always the first one to question people, volunteer answers, and shout opinions. You've saved the world nearly single handedly. And yet despite all of that, it took you 10 _years_ to share this particularly important opinion?"

Hermione let out a jingling laugh, "No one else has ever scared me as much as you, Minerva. You're quite the intimidating specimen. I may be a Gryffindor, but I'm not completely insane. I had to wait for the right moment."

"And this was it?" Minerva smirked, "In the middle of a ministry ball with everyone we know curiously watching us dance?"

"Yes," Hermione answered simply. "Was I wrong?"

Minerva just sighed, "No—no you weren't wrong, Hermione. You so rarely are." She smiles as her lips are gently captured by the beautiful Gryffindor.

Finally, it's time.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading, and please shoot me a review, if you have the time!<strong>


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